Chapter 8
MATTEO
Seeing her standing there, in the middle of my parents’ bedroom, wearing a simple black dress with a slit almost to her hip, stilettos for miles, golden hair perfectly styled, falling in soft golden waves across her bare shoulders, her eyes and whole face shimmering, took my breath away.
And my reason. Because all I wanted to do was rip the dress right off her, like I promised her I would when she wore black.
And it wouldn’t be because she’s wearing black.
Or because I’m sure she’s wearing nothing underneath it.
But she’s the perfect combination of black and gold as it is. And she’s gone to so much trouble making herself look nice like I wanted.
I can wait a few more hours to have her. It’ll be the sweetest torture. Probably more torture than sweetness. But I’m getting used to that. Growing to like it.
“Are you satisfied?” she asks and twirls around since I’m just standing there, my mouth probably hanging open as I try to remember how to draw a breath.
I nod, can’t actually speak yet. But then I manage to clear my throat just enough to say, “Hold on.”
I walk to the painting of a sailboat at sea, commissioned from one famous artist or another back in the day.
I take it off the wall unceremoniously and open the safe behind it.
This safe still contains all my mother’s jewelry, just as the closets in this room still hold all her clothes.
My father sealed off this room after she died and never went in again.
Except sometimes, in the dead of night, when he didn’t know anyone was watching.
It was the only time I’d ever seen my father cry and the memory still doesn’t sit well with me.
Like that one tear in a beautiful painting, or a scratch in an otherwise perfect marble table.
But my mother’s death was like that for all of us. It forever tore everything apart.
I bring out a few of the jewelry boxes and open them on the bed, trying to find the perfect piece to go with her outfit. I settle on an intricate diamond necklace, which can be gold or black depending on the light. On her, it’s gold.
She gasps as she touches it, looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door.
And I realize she’d been struck breathless too.
There’s sparkling diamonds in her eyes too as she looks at me now.
I wish I could give her my mother’s engagement ring too, to match the necklace, but I’ll only do that when she’s closer to accepting it. So probably never.
“This is so beautiful,” she says.
“Hang on, there’s a bracelet that goes with it too.”
I busy myself getting that for her too and attaching it to her wrist.
“There, now it’s all perfect.”
The diamonds in her eyes are even more sparkly now as she takes my arm and lets me lead her from the room and to the car.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I help her into her seat.
“For what?” I ask, not even sure why. I should be able to guess she’s thanking me for all the clothes and the jewels. But I think she means something more than that. Or I hope she does.
“For not treating me like dirt, even after everything I’ve said and done to you,” she says. “And for making me feel like I belong here.”
“You do,” I say and shut the door.
“That’s not entirely true.”
Those words cut me deep. I don’t know how to respond. I could tell her I love her again, but she just scoffs at that. I could say I’d never hurt her, but I already did that. I could tell her I want her to be my wife, but she’d probably just reject that.
And in trying to find a response with all that flying through my mind, I miss the whole of the ride to the restaurant I’ve picked for us. I still don’t know what to say to her as I’m handing the keys to the valet. And it’s too late to try and figure it out now.
We’re not here purely for pleasure. It’s business too.
Luigi’s is an old Hollywood restaurant that my great-grandfather Eddo founded. It was one of the bigger earners in our portfolio and after our downfall, the manager just took it for himself on the sly. I want it back now. Just like all the other family businesses that suffered the same fate.
I was the one managing the business properties for our family, while my father and brother handled the more important things.
They all know me here. Especially the crooked manager with a very fake and very subservient smile on his face as he waits for Gianna and me to enter the restaurant proper.
Martin O’Connor, a skinny little snake I never should’ve hired in the first place.
I let Gianna enter first, but the manager has eyes just for me.
“Welcome back, Matteo,” he says, shaking my hand with both of his. His palms soggy and unpleasantly hot. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not so very long,” I tell him.
Dante used to enjoy bringing me to all the family restaurants and hotels that had been swindled from us while no one was paying attention.
He’d make me stand near him so I’d be sure to be noticed.
I had to keep quiet and he had to leave all of it alone.
Such were the terms dictated by the Commission that used to run things back in New York when they finally stepped in and ended the war.
They kept all our holdings and all our properties to themselves, but didn’t do anything with them.
Or protect them from being stolen by scum like O’Connor here.
At first, I thought the Commission did that because they’d let me come out of Dante’s captivity soon, but then the years just started passing.
I’m glad the damn Commission is gone, I’m glad I can take it all back now, but most of all, I’m glad for the gorgeous woman currently looking at me with a mixture of confusion, awe, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
“We will talk now,” I tell Martin, who couldn’t come up with anything more to say while I waited. “But first we’d like to be seated.”
Martin gulps audibly, fear creeping into his eyes. Understandable. I was known to be a good guy, but also someone you don’t fuck with. Now I’m just someone you don’t fuck with.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be in my office.”
I brought Caputo and four other guys to watch my back while I’m here, since Dante Moretti is the kind of coward who might just kill me the first chance he sees.
Like stab me in the back in the men’s room, for example.
He has no honor, just lots of pants-shitting fear.
He knows I’m back and he knows what that means.
Martin waves over a tall, black-haired hostess and she smiles widely as she escorts us to our table.
I pull out a chair for Goldie, but don’t take a seat across from her.
“Where are you going?” she asks, as I tell her I’ll be right back.
“What’s going on?” she persists.
“Just something I gotta take care of,” I say and smile at her. “Then I’m all yours.”
She doesn’t look happy about it, but I want to do this first. Then I’ll work on making her happy.
I tell Caputo to come with me and the other four to keep a close watch on Gianna.
Then I head for the office in the back, past the kitchen where the chef and most of the helpers stop what they’re doing and gaze at me, steam rising from the untended pots.
I nod at the chef, but don’t stop to chat.
In the office, Martin has the window and the safe wide open and is stuffing cash and papers into a large black garbage bag. As he sees me, he leaps for the open window. But I grab him by the collar and pull him back in, while Caputo relieves him of the garbage bag.
The grip I have on his collar is tight enough to choke, and I don’t loosen it as I look into his eyes. He’s gasping for air, his face turning a purplish red as he starts clawing at my hand.
“You’re not going anywhere yet, you rat,” I tell him. “You’re gonna stay right here, running this place until I find a replacement. And if you try to double cross me again or steal from me, I will murder your entire family and make you watch. Am I clear?”
His eyes are so wide they’re mostly white and his face is a dark shade of purple as he nods like his life depends on it. Clearly, he understands that it truly does.
I didn’t used to be the guy who would threaten a man’s family over business. But that was a decade ago. Everything is different now. And alone as I am now, it is far better to be feared than loved.
I finally release him, and punch him in the jaw so hard I can feel something crack. “That’s so you’ll remember it. Do not let me down again.”
Fat tears are streaming down his cheek as he nods, massaging his neck.
“I won’t,” he croaks. “Thank you for letting me live.”
I scoff. “I never said I was letting you live.”
He gasps, his eyes darting to the open window again.
“But I might,” I add, probably lying. I hate everyone who profited from our downfall with a black passion that nothing can lighten. Not even Goldie. “If you prove yourself to me now.”
Martin nods faster. “I will. I will do anything you need. I swear.”
“Keep running this restaurant just as before,” I tell him. “But all the profits go through me now.”
The left side of his face is starting to swell dramatically, blood leaking from the side of his mouth. I probably broke a couple of his teeth. He’s still nodding.
“Get yourself cleaned up now,” I tell him. “And you better not let me down.”
He promises he won’t again, but I’m already walking away.
The dark thing of tonight is done. Now I can focus only on the light. On Goldie.
Just seeing her from afar, her hair shining gold, the diamonds around her neck sparkling more beautifully than the ocean, lifts some of the darkness from my soul.
But then I see she’s not alone.
Dante Moretti is sitting next to her. And all the darkness returns, blacker than ever. So black that no light can ever touch it.
If I kill him tonight, then all my fantasies of making him suffer first will be null and void.
But he’s talking to my Goldie, sitting so close to her she can probably smell his foul breath. That’s a killing offense all on its own. So I don’t know what I’ll do when I reach him.